


father

by tucana



Category: Glee
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Oneshot, adult!tracey, bisexual tracey, discussions of death (burt), sad angst, wedding anniversary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:54:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25973983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tucana/pseuds/tucana
Summary: Moving back to Lima wasn't a choice Kurt and Blaine particularly wished to make, but Burt needed support from them, and Kurt wanted to savour every last moment with his father.A year on, their twenty-fifth anniversary, neither have moved on.
Relationships: Kurt Hummel/Blaine Anderson, klaine - Relationship
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	father

“Kurt, Tracey said she might be a bit later than expected, the plane from Boston got delayed. Something about emergency repairs or something?” He shrugged, the voicemail from his daughter had been garbled and mostly unclear. He walked over to Kurt in the kitchen, who was washing up, and wrapped his arms around him from behind, kissing his cheek. “Happy anniversary.” Blaine said softly, making Kurt smile, letting go of the plate he was holding to turn around to his husband, of 25 years. “Happy anniversary.” He responded, cupping Blaine’s face to kiss him.

“I know these twenty-five years have been a huge, unpredictable rollercoaster – especially recently, but I’d choose no one else to do this with. No matter how hard it may seem sometimes.” Blaine said after the kiss. He patted Kurt’s shoulder. “Finish the dishes! We have a lot to do before she comes, I’ll tidy the living room.”

“Make sure dad’s chair looks spotless, okay?”

“I’d accept nothing less!”

Kurt smiled, appreciating Blaine’s help around the house. It felt odd that Blaine was living in Kurt’s childhood home, sharing the bed he had as a teenager, sitting in the kitchen his dad gave him many, unwanted “adult” talks to, but when Burt became sick, around this time the previous year, Kurt had no choice but to leave New York and look after him. The year was hard, probably the hardest he’d ever had – emotionally, for the both of them. Burt was as much of a father to Blaine as he had been to Kurt, so it left a gaping hole in both of their hearts. He was more than a father; he was a _dad_. To Blaine, a father was the remnant of years of trauma and hiding, a father was the person who kept you insecure and made you question your trust in anyone. Burt had been different. He was unconditionally accepting, always putting others before himself, always willing to strive for what was _right,_ rather than what made him popular. The type of dad you could talk to, about anything, and he’d always know what to say, even if his phrasing wasn’t perfect.

The death had devastated Kurt. Even a year on, he couldn’t put into words how important his dad was to him, and how deeply his departure had affected him.

They pottered around the house for a while, Blaine ensuring Burt’s chair was perfect, then moving to focus on cleaning and tidying the family photos. He stopped for a moment, picking one up of the entire family – Burt, Carole, Finn, Kurt, Tracey, and himself. Not once did he feel like an outcast in these photos. They were at the beach, in the south of France (Kurt’s insistence). Blaine was carrying Tracey, she was only a toddler when this had been taken, and probably didn’t remember this holiday. In contrast, this was one of Blaine’s favourites. They had rented a small, private villa for a couple weeks in the summer, and when they weren’t at the pool, or the beach, they were exploring the forests and vineyards. One night, Burt and Carole had promised to take care of Tracey – so that Kurt and Blaine could go on a wine tasting course. He polished the frame, then put it back down, straightening the rest of the photos out, making sure to put Carole and Burt’s wedding photo at the centre.

Kurt finished off the dishes, checking the time. They still had a couple hours before Carole would come home, after the early morning shift at the hospital, and even more until Tracey would arrive. He sighed, not remembering what else needed doing. The exhaustion had started to catch him up, making him often forgetful, and slow. He walked into the living room, watching Blaine polish the coffee table. Kurt wanted the house to be perfect, he wouldn’t accept anything less. Tracey didn’t visit often, especially after last year. She was busy with college, and had tried to distance herself from her dads – thinking it’d be easier to cope with the loss that way. Kurt wanted to show her that they were more than okay, more than surviving, in hopes that she’d realise she still had a home with them, and could visit as often as possible.

Kurt turned the radio on, not bothering to choose a station.

_And please, say to me_

_You’ll let me hold your ha-_

Kurt turned off the radio. Blaine looked up at him, noticing his nose scrunch up the slightest bit – an indicator he was close to crying. He dropped his chores, walking over to him, holding his hand. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m here for you.” He whispered, taking him to sit down, avoiding Burt’s chair, to keep it perfect. Kurt was motionless for a moment, but then nestled his head into Blaine’s shoulder, trying to hold back the tears. Blaine rubbed circles on the back of Kurt’s hand, giving his head a quick kiss. “I love you so much.” He whispered, moving his other hand to Kurt’s back, to hold him. “Shall we put some other music on?” Kurt nodded, moving off of Blaine so he could get up, grabbing his phone off the tabletop. “Hmm…” Blaine scrolled through his music library indecisively. “How about Daydream Believer?” He asked. “Remember when we did that?”

Kurt nodded again, wiping away the tears that had escaped, his mouth curling into a weak smile. “I miss New York.”

“We can go back anytime you want.” Blaine smiled back, plugging his phone into the speaker, and pressing play. Kurt shook his head. “Not yet. I don’t know when I’ll be able to leave this place.”

“That’s okay. I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.” Blaine walked back over to his husband, holding out his arms, Kurt grabbing onto them so he could be pulled up. Blaine lost his balance for a second, but Kurt pulled him in, starting to move to the time of the song. “I loved doing this with you.” He said. “Working in schools was so fun.”

Blaine chuckled. “Try working in one full-time! I’m sure you wouldn’t call it fun for much longer.”

Kurt pushed on Blaine’s shoulder playfully. “What are you talking about? You love your job!” He moved away from Blaine a little, making both of their arms extend, then directed for Blaine to spin back into him.

Upon moving back to Ohio, Blaine had taken a position at Dalton Academy. Not as part of the Warblers, they still wanted to be student-led, but as a music teacher, who also gave some of the boys private singing lessons in his free periods. The Glee club scene had changed considerably since his high school days, being more competitive and professional than ever. The atmosphere was completely alien, so he distanced himself from the historic Warblers, choosing to focus on teaching the boys their melodics from their harmonics. He had trained as a teacher in NYC, but had never taken up a position there, until his late twenties. His earlier adulthood was dedicated to theatre, claiming that he wanted to explore more of his artistic side, before settling down into a ‘proper’ profession. In actuality, he had changed profession to be more committed to a family life, with Tracey on the way. Kurt’s fashion business was unpredictable and time-consuming, so the two needed something stable – that worked well with the commitment of a child.

Raising a child had been harder than they ever anticipated. The only thing they could seem to completely agree on, was to not have a second.

They swayed side-to-side, Kurt closing his eyes, to remove himself from the environment. He loved holding Blaine in such a way, whilst it obviously gave Blaine a sense of security and comfort, it reminded Kurt that they would never leave each other, and that he would always have someone, always have Blaine be there for him, to support and uplift him. Kurt wondered what Blaine had got him for their anniversary this year. He quickly tapped his back pocket, to check if his present was still there, shocked Blaine hadn’t yet noticed. Maybe he did, and just didn’t want to spoil the surprise. He was especially proud of what he had got for Blaine this year. The item itself wasn’t especially unique, it was more about the sentiment and history behind it.

The song soon ended, and Kurt directed Blaine back to the sofa, patting the headrest of Burt’s chair three times in quick succession, to symbolise the three words _I love you._

“I want to give you your present!” Kurt said, bouncing his legs up and down, reminding Blaine of excited little puppy. “Go on then…” Blaine shut his eyes in an exaggerated fashion, thrusting his hands out in front of him. Kurt took out the small box from his pocket, carefully placing it in the middle of Blaine’s palms.

Kurt’s phone buzzed, rudely interrupting the moment. “Who is it?” Blaine asked, keeping his eyes shut. “Isabelle.” Kurt smiled. Him and Isabelle didn’t often talk these days, but anytime they found themselves a spare moment, they would call to catch up on each other’s lives. Unlike Kurt, she hadn’t settled down, despite being too old for the New York nightlife. She always seemed to be in between girlfriends, and was adored by Tracey, who called her the ‘rich lesbian aunt’. “She says happy anniversary.” Blaine smiled too, but grew impatient. “Fuck it.” He said, opening his eyes, recognising the style of the box, opening it carefully. A ring. A small and simple pink sapphire, with an equally simple silver band. Blaine’s smile grew.

“You’ve always given me rings.” Kurt said. “The paper one, from our first Christmas, the engagement one, you even chose our wedding rings. It’s my turn now.” Kurt took the box from Blaine’s hands. “Hand out.” He said softly, taking the ring from the box, sliding it onto Blaine’s ring finger, just above the wedding ring. “It’s stunning.” Blaine whispered, taking a good look at the stone, then darting his eyes to meet Kurt’s. “I love you so much. You’re always so thoughtful and sentimental.” He continued, watching Kurt’s mouth curl into a beaming smile, tongue between his teeth. “I’m so excited for you to see your present! We’ll wait until later today; I want Carole and Tracey to be here for it.”

Kurt nodded, growing in anticipation.

They spent the last of their time before Carole returned tidying up, finishing earlier than expected. Kurt decided to improve upon his baking skills. Blaine was the superior baker, but Kurt had refused to take tips from him, being insistent on learning ‘the hard way’. He found a simple carrot cake recipe, hunting the fridge and cupboards to locate the ingredients, carefully measuring everything out to exact proportions. Blaine had moved to the study, checking his work email, looking over his teacher planner, hoping that all his marking had been completed.

The doorbell rang, and a messy Kurt, with flour all on his hands, and up his apron, answered the door. Carole smiled wearily. “Hi, forgot my keys again.” She said, embarrassed. Kurt beamed, pulling her in for a hug, forgetting about the flour situation. She hugged back, clinging onto his embrace, which was so reminiscent of Burt’s. They walked into the kitchen, which received raised eyebrows, and a gaping mouth from Carole. “Jesus, Kurt, what did you do? It’s like a bombsite! I thought you were tidying up today, for Tracey?” She questioned, hovering over the island for a moment before taking some of the crockery to the sink.

“Oh,” Kurt laughed a little, “we did. I’m just baking.”

“I can see that.” She responded. “How do you always end up making such a mess? Blaine is much, much tidier than you.”

“Blaine is also the better baker, and just knows how to work around a kitchen. Him looking after baby Tracey paid off, I guess.” He smiled. He loved being in Carole’s company. “You look exhausted, how was work?”

She sighed, sitting down at the island. “It’s wearing me down more than usual, but what can you do?” She mostly worked in the Accident & Emergency unit, being exposed to a lot of deaths, and even more near misses. Losing Burt had made shifts indescribably hard to manage through, so she had cut down her hours significantly, now only working a maximum of three days a week. Before everything with Burt, being a nurse was her dream profession, she was a natural caregiver, and the patients always noted her as the most remarkably selfless person in the building, but now, seeing people die served as a reminder of what she lost, and seeing those recover served as a reminder of what was not afforded to her.

“You should go and rest. I’ll wake you up when Tracey’s here, okay?” Kurt took the wooden spoon from out of her grip, resting his hand on her back. She nodded in response. “Don’t worry about that, you three should get some alone time. She’s always to busy now.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, not wanting her to think she was unwanted. “Always.” She slowly got up, walking out of the kitchen, and up the stairs. Kurt sighed. He constantly worried about her. They had both faced loss before Burt, so he knew how hard it could be, even a year on. You just had to sit up, make it out of bed, and muddle your way through the day, hoping the next would be brighter.

Blaine emerged in the kitchen doorway, having just missed Carole. “How is she?” He asked Kurt, not bringing up the mess he had caused. He was used to it. “Exhausted. Everything’s catching up to her now.” Blaine sat down at the island. “Do you think she can afford to retire a little early? I know she wanted to keep working until as late as possible, but it just doesn’t seem as viable now.” Kurt shrugged. “She’d be able to, if we siphoned off some of the profits from the company. It’s still so unpredictable, but we’re definitely getting enough business to keep afloat.”

Kurt had originated his time in New York at a Vogue internship, where he met Isabelle, who was his boss at the time. He had previously applied for musical theatre programs, but declined the offer from NYADA upon realising fashion was where his true passions lay. Isabelle called him a prodigy, adoring every page of his portfolio, and instantly bookmarking his fashion blog. Despite Kurt only being an intern at the time, Isabelle treated him as an equal, and after a fleeting six months, he was offered a full-time job as a fashion journalist, tackled with spotting the newest trends, particularly those from within gay culture. Isabelle instructed him to be as bold as possible in whatever he did, and he took that deeply to heart, which was why, after two years, two raises, and two promotions, Isabelle was not in the least bit surprised to see Kurt handing in his resignation form, explaining that he wanted to branch out, and start his own company.

“Isabelle says I always have a place at Vogue, so I could get a second job with her if we need to.” Kurt offered, putting the uneven carrot cake in the oven. It appeared to be rather more successful than prior attempts, although still not a match for Blaine’s expertise. Blaine fervently shook his head. “God, please no. We are not taking up extra work. We can’t do that again. It nearly destroyed us.” Kurt sighed in response, putting his hands up in surrender. “Just in case! I wouldn’t say yes to her unless it was necessary.” He washed his hands, drying them on the cloth that was over his shoulder, and walked behind Blaine. “I think,” he said, resting his hands on his husband’s tense shoulders, squeezing them gently, “that we both need to stop worrying so much. Especially today, of all days. Okay?”

Blaine let his shoulders rise and fall, closing his eyes as he felt Kurt massage him gently. “Okay.” He whispered, starting to relax. He turned around. “How’s the cake? Is it as good as mine?” Kurt frowned. “You already know the answer, Mr. Star-Baker.” As well as being envious of Blaine, Kurt had picked up an interest in baking from his late-night binges of the Great British Bake Off. Mary Berry was his new cultural icon, and he once considered a tattoo dedicated to her – next to the Bette Midler one. Kurt switched on the radio, hoping to have better luck this time.

_But of all these friends and lovers_

_There is no one compares with you_

_And these memories lose their meaning_

_When I think of love as something new_

The radio seemed to be on a Beatles kick. Kurt didn’t mind, as long as it wasn’t _that_ song. Blaine, however, was the bigger Beatles fan in the family. “It’s weird.” Kurt said, turning down the volume a little.

“What’s weird?” Blaine asked, staying sat down, glancing at the carrot cake through the oven. He was impressed. “That we’ve been together for so long, you know?”

“Why would that be weird? I love you, and you love me.” Blaine furrowed his brow, confused by what Kurt meant, fearing he meant it in a negative light.

“Not weird in a bad way! I don’t know. I never expected my high school crush to become my lifetime partner, my _husband_. That wasn’t even a legal possibility when I first met you!”

“Oh, how times have changed.” Blaine smiled. “It’s amazing though, isn’t it? We did it. We built a life together. I’m not saying it’s perfect, or that _we’re_ perfect, but we did it. I couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else. It’s weird how everything’s come full circle too. We fell in love in Ohio, took a detour to New York, spent a couple years in Paris, then came back here. Same house, too.”

“God, I loved Paris. We should retire there.” Kurt sat down next to Blaine. “Tracey loved it too. Remember how much of a farce it was to try calm her down after we left? She wouldn’t get out of her bed for days.” Blaine smiled, nodding, remembering it as clear as day. “That’s also what’s weird. Not seeing her. Everything’s so quiet now. She kept us occupied, didn’t she?”

Kurt exhaled in amusement. “A bit _too_ occupied, I think. Especially with all those extracurriculars.” Blaine groaned, “God, those fucking extracurriculars. She was worse than me, senior year, forcing me to get up at four in the morning for swim practice. She told me she doesn’t even swim anymore! Such a waste.”

“I guess she’s too busy with her actual course. She sent me an essays worth about how horrible and tedious her new lecturer was. As soon as she started the math vocabulary, I just scrolled past, bless her.” Kurt said, watching Blaine smile. “How the ever-loving fuck did we raise a math-whiz?”

They continued to reminisce, talking mostly about Tracey’s younger years. Kurt’s therapist often said that he lived too often in the past, worrying about things he did and said that didn’t matter anymore, but talking about Tracey was perfectly acceptable in Kurt’s eyes, although much of what they discussed was shrouded in nostalgia, neither of them not once bringing up how hard it had been, and how, especially whilst Tracey had been at elementary school, their relationship and level of intimacy had taken a tremendous hit, one they were still recovering from.

The carrot cake was ready only minutes before she was to arrive. Kurt was doing a last-minute tidy-up when the egg timer went off, so Blaine took it out, putting it on the counter-top to cool down. He cocked his head to the side; it was the best cake Kurt had ever made. Rough around the edges, but he was sure Kurt would claim it was ‘rustic’. No matter how bad Kurt’s baking could look, the taste was always spot-on, but Blaine wouldn’t admit that the brownies made last week were better tasting than Blaine’s own recipe. He had too much pride.

There was a jangle of someone fumbling to find the correct key, and then the door opened. “Guys?” Tracey called, taking the backpack off her shoulder, closing the door behind her. Blaine walked through, a piping bag in one hand. “Tracey!” He exclaimed, beaming, instantly going in to hug her, his arms lingering over her shoulders, despite her being taller by a couple inches – due to her patent platforms. Her half-black, half-bleached jeans were slightly baggy, secured by a simple chain substituted for a belt. Her upper half was a faded band t-shirt (she often rotated between Queen, Bowie, Mayday Parade, and Greenhouse Gals & the Overworked Interns – the eco-punk band her current girlfriend was the bassist for, today’s choice) – tucked into her jeans, the sleeves rolled up. Her hair was an assortment of box dye, which made her curls less defined, so she often backcombed to all hell, to make it seem intentional. In normal circumstances, Tracey would be found with bold, bright eyeliner and a black lip, but she had woken up late, missing her flight (thus not being late due to engine repairs, as she had told Blaine), so her face was clean, but plain, revealing the freckles decorating her nose and cheeks. They pulled back, and Blaine glanced at the t-shirt. “I don’t recognise that one.” He said, bluntly, then called Kurt, who promptly appeared, smiling as wide as he could once, he saw his daughter, hugging her too. He was a little taller, but only because she didn’t have her thickest platforms on.

The three moved into the kitchen, Blaine passing Kurt the piping bag. “How was the flight?” Kurt asked, putting the nozzle on and starting to ice the top of the cake. “Nothing special. Sorry about the delay.” She replied, watching Kurt circle round the edge of the cake. “Happy anniversary you two.” She added, grabbing her backpack, unzipping it to look for her present. “I got you a little something.” She took out a paper bag, taking out two t-shirts, handing one to each dad. Kurt looked confused. “Who are the Greenhouse Gals & the Overworked Interns?” He asked, picking up the t-shirt and admiring the design. “It’s my girlfriend’s band.” She stated, not realising she hadn’t told them she had a girlfriend yet. “Wait, I thought you were dating that guy… Joey?” Blaine questioned, folding up the t-shirt neatly, ensuring the design was on show.

“Johnny. And no, we broke up. The fucker cheated on me. Anyway, it’s not like I care anymore, I have a girlfriend now.” She smiled. “Her name’s Anusha. She’s lovely, and so dedicated to the band, and her cause. She’s a philosophy major, minoring in environment & sustainability.”

“I didn’t even know you liked girls, Tracey.” Kurt said, finishing off the icing. “Also didn’t know MIT let you do that. I thought they were just stuck-up STEM fucks, like you said.” Tracey shook her head. “She originally wanted to do film, but they don’t offer it, so philosophy was her next choice. Do you like the shirts? I helped her design them.”

“I adore them, Tracey.” Blaine said, kissing her on the forehead. “Although, I have a bone to pick with you.” Tracey rolled her eyes. “What now, dad?” She sighed, getting up to pick at the icing, Kurt batting her hand away. “You don’t visit enough. We miss you too much.” Blaine explained, receiving a deep sigh from her. “I’m busy! I have a job now! I’m a bartender at this super underground anarchist bar. College is expensive, and I don’t want to take more than necessary from you two.” Blaine chuckled. “You’re so sweet. Could you at least call us more? Again – we didn’t even know you had a job! Just give me and Kurt a bell every now and again, yeah?” She rolled her eyes jokingly. “Fine, I guess I’ll force myself to talk to you old-asses.” She smirked, as Kurt tapped her on the arm with the wooden spoon. “I guess I also need to show you my new tattoo, right?” She smirked again, as Kurt shook his head, and Blaine just looked in shock. She rolled up her left sleeve further than it already had been, revealing a verse, in a typewriter-esque font.

_You may forget but_

_let me tell you_

_this: someone in_

_some future time_

_will think of us_

“It’s Sappho. Thoughts?” She looked at them for approval. Kurt squinted, trying to get a clear look. He was still in denial about needing glasses – claiming getting them would be accepting that he was old. Blaine nodded approvingly. “I vaguely recognise the name.” He stated, and Kurt gasped. “Glee club. The time Quinn confessed her love for Mercedes. I could’ve sworn she used a Sappho verse.” Blaine smiled, admiring Kurt’s sharp memory. “You seem to remember anything and everything from school. “Which one was Quinn again?” Tracey asked. She had heard her dads gush about high school all through her life, giving her ridiculously high standards for when she started, standards that weren’t met. “Blond cheerleader, except for her ‘skank’ phase. She had pink hair then. Went to Yale, now a ridiculously successful artistic director for an off-Broadway theatre.” Kurt explained. “It’s a good tattoo. I was scared you’d get a drunk one, like I did.”

“Don’t do what your dad did.” Blaine instructed, making Tracey nod. “Are you gonna cut the cake or not?” She asked Kurt impatiently. He rolled his eyes, mimicking her trademark, and cut a slice for her, and then a larger slice for Blaine. “So… tell me more about this Anusha girl. Where did you meet?”

“The bar. I was job-hunting, and asked her if there were any available, so she handed my CV to her manager and poured me a drink, on the house. We started talking, about school and stuff, and just hit it off really well. She invited me to her gig the next day, so of course I went, and it was amazing. She’s amazing.”

Kurt finished dividing up the cake. “Good, I’m glad. You have to let us meet her.” He said. “She seems a lot better than your ex. You seem a lot happier too.” He stood on the opposite end of the island, facing the other two, digging his fork into the cake. Tracey got up, to get a glass of water. “Sorry, dad. It’s a bit dry.” She stated, making Kurt scowl, tasting the cake then sighing. “Shit.” He said. “It’s still good though!” She added, trying to reassure him. “Oh, yeah, did I tell you two?”

“What?” Kurt and Blaine said in unison.

“I got a new apartment! Anusha and I decided to move in together, with a couple of our other friends. Not the ones from the band, the ones from the film society.” Kurt started to reminisce again.

“I remember when your dad and I got our first apartment together. Not the first one I had in New York – the one I shared with Mercedes, the one we got just for ourselves, just after we got married. We were still in Bushwick, to stay close to everyone else, and because we couldn’t afford anywhere else.” He chuckled, glancing at Blaine, who smiled sweetly, remembering the apartment fondly. “Burt was so excited to help us move everything. He even offered to do some DIY for us. Remember?” Blaine said in Kurt’s direction. “Oh God, yeah! He said he’d only paint over the scuffs in the walls for us, but when we came back after the theatre, he’d completely renovated everything! It was so sweet. He’d visit so often too, just to admire his skills, and to pick up some of your baking. He was your biggest fan.”

“I miss him so much.” Tracey said, her voice wobbling a little. She took a sip from her glass, and composed herself. “I regret not coming to visit more often. I should’ve seen him more. I feel like I undervalued him.” Blaine ruffled her hair, then let his hand glide to her shoulder, to pull her in for a hug. “He loved you, so much, and he knew how much you loved him too. It’s okay.”

“I regret not seeing dad more, and we lived here for it all.” Kurt added, putting his fork down, and walking over to join the hug. “I love you both, so much.” Kurt said, wiping a tear with his sleeve. They hugged for a moment longer, then Blaine released, having something to say.

“Since everyone’s here, I think it’s time for your anniversary present.” He announced. “Can you wake up Carole, Tracey? She’ll be ecstatic to see you.” She nodded, and headed off upstairs.

“I still don’t get why everyone needed to be here.” Kurt bluntly said, folding his arms, suspicious of what Blaine had up his sleeve.

“You’ll see.”

Blaine was driving, and had instructed the other three to have blindfolds on, so as to not ruin the surprise. It was as much for Tracey and Carole as it was for Kurt. They had the radio on, playing charts music, so no one was really paying any attention. Tracey’s only involvement with pop was as a guilty pleasure, when she was home alone, singing in the shower, and the other three were too old to keep up. He knew the route off by heart. They all did.

“Where are we going?” Tracey asked, receiving no response from her dad. After a short drive, and an arduous wait at some traffic lights, Blaine turned in, stopping just outside the building. He got out, then helped everyone else out one by one, lining them up next to each other. He stood next to Kurt, and took his hand, squeezing it. “Okay, you can take the blindfolds off now!” He announced, anticipating their reactions. Kurt responded the quickest, his hand already being poised to take it off. He blinked a couple times, his vision focusing, then realised what Blaine had done.

There were no other cars around, a stark contrast to what had previously been a loud, busy workspace. He had never seen it so empty. What was normally a cacophony of mechanical whirr and grinding gears, was replaced with near silence. The silence wasn’t unwelcome, it was just so out of place. It looked different, and not just because _he_ wasn’t there. It was cleaner. The grime of years of hard work had been washed away, and the sign had a fresh lick of paint. The machinery looked new, but you could tell it hadn’t been replaced. Instead of being a worn-down remnant, that would, over time, turn dusty and decrepit, it was a fresh memorial. Kurt’s eyes darted back to the sign, reading _Hummel Tires & Lube. _

“Blaine…” Kurt whispered, glancing at Tracey and Carole, as they took of their blindfolds, gasping at the surprise. All three were speechless.

From inside, a tall, handsome figure appeared, with greying stubble to match his greying hair, which had changed little since high school. As he walked closer, his signature, slightly lopsided smile was on show, his eyes crinkling as he saw his family. He took his hands out of his pockets, rolling up the sleeves of his blue boiler-suit, and pulling the four in for a group hug.

“Finn…” Carole whispered, nestling her head into his chest, then looking up at him. “I thought you took a teaching job up in New England?”

“Oh, I did. Blaine called me down.” He quickly explained.

Kurt’s first instinct was to criticise Blaine, for reckless use of their finances, but decided against it. “Blaine… this is amazing.”

Blaine smiled, walking them both inside, showing him around. “Since I started working at Dalton again, I drove past here daily, watching it get more, and more isolated, and unwanted. I know Finn isn’t necessarily destined to keep up the business, but I wanted to change it up. We couldn’t lose it. You grew up in this grease, as much as you hate the grime.” He looked at Carole, and Tracey. “It’s a part of us all.”

Tracey hopped up onto an empty counter, making herself comfortable, and looked around. “This is such a good present, dad.” She said, watching Carole start to cry.

Carole walked over to the side wall, not recognising it. “This is different.” She stated, wiping her tears away. Blaine and Finn walked over, standing either side of her, Blaine motioning for Kurt and Tracey to join them. “Once we finished painting this, it felt a bit bare.” Finn began, letting Blaine take over: “It’s a memory wall now. Photos of Burt, photos of us all together. He always said family was forever, right? I had to uphold that. He’s right. Of course, nothing lasts forever physically, but he’s still with us, on an emotional level. He’ll always be with us. No matter what.” He kissed his husband’s cheek, moving a lock of his hair away from his face.

“I love you, so much.” Kurt said, turning to him, the other three recognising they wanted a private moment, so dispersed around the rest of the garage. “Oh, I’m staying for dinner, if that’s okay?” Finn said to Kurt, who simply nodded.

Now on their own, Kurt took a small step toward Blaine, taking both of his hands. “This is the best thing ever, but how did you get the money?” He asked. “Savings. Finn actually received it in his will, remember? I only had to pay for redecorating. I’ve been charging for those private lessons, and a lot of the Dalton boys were happy to help, for some credit of course.”

“Oh, the perks of being a teacher.” Kurt replied, smiling, watching Blaine’s eyes light up. “Almost worth all the stress.” Blaine added, laughing. “I’m so sorry, for letting our relationship slip so much over the years. I know we’re in a good place now, but I just still feel so guil-“

“Don’t.” Kurt interrupted. “You don’t need to apologise. It was on me, too. We both let other things get in the way of our love for each other, but it’s okay now, isn’t it? We’ve learnt, and grown, and changed so much over the years. In actuality,” Kurt patted his hands on Blaine’s shoulders, “I think this is the best we’ve ever been.” He smiled again, feeling his eyes well up. “I finally feel like I can properly move on, from everything with dad. Before, I felt as though I was merely just trying to cope, and nothing was getting better. But now it can, thanks to you. I love you, Blaine.”

“I love you too, Kurt. Happy anniversary.”

“Happy anniversary.”

Blaine cupped Kurt’s face in his hands, gently running his thumb along Kurt’s cheek, and kissed him, Kurt’s hands clasping each other behind Blaine’s neck.


End file.
